Imperium
by serenitydotcs
Summary: You need not realize the greatness of a Nephilim, but you must witness the fate of the world in the hands of one man- or God- or Devil?
1. Life Death Rebirth

Imperium | Chapter 1 - Life Death Rebirth

* * *

Emiya Shirou opened his eyes. _Null_. Just nugatory space. _Void_. His vision blurred, flecks of dark runes forced themselves into his sight. _Suffering_.

His rust-colored hair was matted over his forehead, ominously glistened with black sweat. His usually sleek and narrow face was now scrunched up— steadfastly etched with pain, while the contours of his cheekbones seemed to seeped of and contain an ancient evil. The thoughts in his head ran while as the black glyphs forced themselves slowly further into his vision, as he thought back to his final recollections of the holy grail war, all that truly remained were the maniacal last stand of a king and the both of them being pulled into the concentrated slew of darkness.

Tendrils of black lighting ruptured the silence of the void as the violent thrum of the black markings reached covered all in his vision. Shirou closed his eyes, breathing heavily, his concentration was solely focused on the suppression of the primitive source of suffering present in the black glyphs.

His grip tightened. Dirty uncut nails dug deep into the folds of his palms as a spark of blue lightning cracked at his fist. He was ready to truly depart from the world, forever disappearing into the abyss— forgotten.

"It is not the time for you to leave yet."

His eyebrows furrowed as his resolve wavered.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"Just," the voice wavered, "one reaching the end of his journey."

A piercing light. An absolutely wonderful light descended, enough to bring salvation into the abyss twice over. A light that powers even through the corruption of darkness.

The light of God.

"In the good times and in the bad, whatever I am and have," the light grew brighter, and warmer, as it pushed out against the black markings, "I place in your hands. For it is finished and into your hands, I commit my spirit. Emiya Shirou, you are worthy."

In a brilliant flash of light, one more majestic than any. The father had disappeared from the world. A boy defined by fire. Born in steel and clad in iron. Yet, his tale never ended; for he had placed upon himself the soul of the Lord.

* * *

Shirou felt a burning feeling. Not one of heat but one of the cold. Flakes of frost had formed on his tattered jeans, reduced to nothing but a pair of torn up shorts. His shirt was in pieces. Pulverized. Nothing remained of the nostalgic shirt holding the values of his previous life.

His eye flickered open. His amber no— molten gold eyes stared into the starry night sky. Snowflakes slowly fell in slow and curvaceous motions.

 _To be a magus is to walk with death._

"Trace on."

A bronze blade slowly materialized, setting itself upon a beautifully engraved guard. Its pommel was inscribed with the power of warmth and safety.

Shirou once again flared his circuits, pushing what little remained of his od into the grip of the sword. And with a seemingly dull flash, its ancient runes once again flared to life. The Flaming Sword of Asaruludu, the Sumerian deity of hearth and safety.

With his prana spent, he once again drifted off into unconsciousness. His last thought was the warmth provided by his imitation. He hoped with a heavy heart that his projection of the myth would hold out before any true danger befell upon him.

Shirou parted his eyes once more, a sense of vigor and power rushed throughout his body. Powerful. More power than he had ever felt. Ignoring the distress of his creaking bones, he slowly raised his torso. His battered body moaned and groaned in protest to his movement. As he slowly raised himself up, his senses once again became active.

Burnt houses— reminiscent of conflict, demolished, with their inhabitants dispelling as ashes into the surrounding air.

A scent of fresh blood and cruel death eroded his nose. Without care, he twisted his body to face his intuition. Only to find the pale face of a woman. A river of blood trailed behind her, proof of the distance she had traveled no— crawled to reach him. Her tattered clothes hid no secrets to the suffering she endured, heavy burn marks scorched, bruises permuted her skin, face disfigured by lacerations, most likely from the sharp sting of swords, in a puddle of her own blood.

"Please," her lifeless laguna eyes stared into his ambers ones, hand outstretched to reach his, "save her."

Clutched between her bosom was a child. One that could not be older than ten, in a relatively unharmed condition. His thoughts were warped to that fateful day; of himself, devoid of hope, saved by the man he later called his father. The unconditionally relieved face of happiness and lovingness tugged at his heartstrings. Even before he had fully comprehended the significance of it, he already knew his decision. A decision sealed by the clasping of his hand around a broken shell.

"She will know salvation."

With that, the voided eyes of the woman closed. Her hand slipped through his grasp as her body went limp— pulled into the afterlife.

He observed the child, her violet eyes were opened wide, like a deer caught in the headlights. Messy hair was splayed across her teary face, dark strands dyed red with the blood of her mother.

"What is your name?" he asked, face emotionless.

A cold silence greeted him.

"-Mommy."

"-Mommy."

The eerie trance was broken by the soft sobs of the girl, and with that, his cold mask was melted. He was reminded of another young girl with snowy white hair. One who had lost her mother from the cruelty of conflict. One with no father figure to support her. One who in the end, lived a bitter life of lies. One who he should have saved from the greed of mankind.

Empowered with the fear of regret, he grasped the delicate hands of the girl. Like an angel of the heavens, he reached forward. Bringing with him the light and warmth, cutting through the harsh ice of winter. His other hand rested upon the body of the mother.

"May you rest in peace, for your child will be safe."

He pulled. With a quick heave, he brought the girl into his embrace. Cradling her to his chest and softly stroking her locks, he said with a wry smile, "My name is Shirou, what is yours?"

A quiet yet difficult croak diffused into the air. Then silence.

"Blessed be your name. Rest well Akeno, for you are saved."

* * *

A remote building stood tall, its vine infested gainsboro tiles contrasting the purple sky. A man stood on the rooftop, his stature hunched over the grey marble railing. An unshaven beard was worn upon his square face. A neat cut of hair framed his middle-aged face, one filled with wrinkles and scars. Baraqiel, Vice Governor General of the Grigori. His expression remained unreadable— hard stoic eyes adorned his gruff features as he recalled his lover. Shuri, a simple Miko who had saved his life. He thought he had truly found love, only to find it taken away from him by her family. Killed by several of his enemies while he was away, backstabbed by his own in-laws. No traces of his daughter remained either, the entire battlefield had been incinerated. The only evidence of the battle that remained was a trail of blood—no doubt Shuri's.

"She may be alive," sounded another voice, vibrating with sympathy. "You know they had never found her body."

Azazel, the Governor General of Grigori and one of his oldest friends. The tall fallen with golden bangs was without his usual childish expression. He placed one of his hands on Baraqiel sweat ridden shoulder, as he pursed his lips.

"The best of the Grigori are tracking them right now—" his hand was brutally brushed off as a defeated voice interrupted "—they're dead."

"I could feel her," tears began to stream down the blank canvas of a face, "she cried out to me, she begged me to save them."

The pure desperation he had heard in her pleas. The plea of a dying woman, one's face filled with hopelessness. Her last wish was to at least save her daughter. And with that, the floodgates opened, as streams of sorrow filled the crevices of his wrinkled face. His voice cracked slightly, and with an unsightly sniffle, he spoke once more. "And where was I?"

Why was he not by her side when she needed her the most? He had failed as a lover, and as a husband, and as a general, and as a _father_. The light of his life, one that he found after losing the light of God, along with his own flesh and blood had been ripped from him by others. Not by fate, but by the enemies of his in the Grigori.

" **I stand here today.** "

 _Thud_. A fist of pure white lightning smashed into the marble railing. Cracks began to run down its sides as it trembled.

" **I am Baraqiel, 9th watcher and the lightning of God!** "

 _Thud_. With a second strike, its form crumbled under the absolute power, the entire railing was crushed.

"And those against me."

 _Crackle_. With a final streak, the entire railing had disappeared from existence, macerated into burnt lime.

" **Will perish.** "

* * *

"Good morning Akeno." A soft-voiced called out, the girl opened her eyes as she saw him at the door, adorned with his usual white and blue shirt. Smile on his face, "It's time for school."

"Ahhh, morning Shirou." Akeno smiled, she could smell the intoxicating scent of food from her room. That was enough incentive for her to scuffle out of bed in order to wash up. Stifling a yawn, she slowly crept towards the bathroom.

"I'll be in the kitchen," Shirou replied, moving out of the way as she passed him. "I'm sure you'll be completely ready in five minutes. Right?"

Her eyes widened, betrayal spread throughout her irises. A moment later, she hastened her approach to the bathroom and proceeded to slam the poor sliding door shut.

Grinning, Shirou made his way back to the kitchen and began to plate the morning meal. A traditional breakfast consisting of steamed rice with natto (fermented soybeans), miso soup, grilled fish, and pickled vegetables. He had always taken care in the presentation in his food. For one eats with their eyes before their mouth; and to truly stand at the peak of culinary, one most sate all the senses.

"Has it been five minutes?" Piped a playful voice, the brunette, now clad in a white button-down shirt with vertical linings, a black shoulder cape, and a matching magenta skirt. The Kuoh Academy uniform.

"No it hasn't, it's good that you made it in time." Not taking his eyes off the stove, he worked fast on the presentation of the meal.

"Breakfast will be served in a bit, go ahead and sit down."

It had been eight years since that day. Which to this day she still has no recollection of. All she knew was that day mysterious men attacked her mother and her. She had been taken in by Shirou that day, to a safety. She had been raised under his gentle care with unconditional love and care. He had taken her as his own and brought her to wander the country of Japan with him.

"Let's eat."

They had settled in Kuoh, a relatively wealthy region. Eventually, Akeno was enrolled in a prestigious private school, Kuoh Academy. Shirou had found the world to be vastly different than what he had experienced in Fuyuki city. It seemed that the age of gods had never ended in this world, and it had indeed persisted into the postmodern era. The weakened pull of Gaia allowed for his Gradation Air projections to stay indefinitely till he dispelled them. With such power, he was able to furnish the small apartment they inhabited in a sophisticated manner with spending a single penny.

He also noticed the presence of non-humans in the modern society, beings that gave off an energy that he would associate with one or multiple of the seven deadly sins— a devilish aura ran rampant at night, while those with the equilibrium of holy and unholiness would occupy nearby abandoned buildings. It was the same one he had associated with Akeno, though to a much lesser scale.

"Ara ara, delicious as always Shirou." Complimented Akeno as she dug into the humble meal prepared by Shirou. "I will never get tired of your cooking."

"I would hope that's the case," Shirou said with a smile on his face, "but unfortunately according to the law of diminishing marginal utility, there will be a—"

"There you go off again, never taking a compliment from me," complained Akeno with a pouting face, a few strands of her hair swung into her eyes.

"Shouldn't you be heading out?" Shirou quickly diverted the subject and glanced at the watch for extra emphasis. "You wouldn't want to be late for school. Now would you?"

"In that case, I'll have to bother you with cleaning up my tray," said Akeno with a sigh as she pushed her finished tray towards Shirou, "I'm off."

"Wait a minute you didn't—" and a spinning of heels and a slammed door was all he received. Shirou unconsciously rubbed his temples. This girl was getting more troublesome day by day. Thinking of her growth brought a smile to his stoic face.

Shirou picked up the tray and dropped them into the sink. He adjusted the stream to a lukewarm temperature and picked up a sponge. With a sigh and a little dish soap, he scrubbed away.

For the few years he had been living here, he had completed odd jobs around town. If you mention the name Emiya Shirou, you would most likely get impressions ranging from the electrician to mysterious dog walker. From installing furnishings to repairing appliances to renovating homes to woodworking. Nothing was necessarily outside the scope of the one who quickly became known as "Kuoh's brownie."

That was until he had stumbled upon the then principal of Kuoh Academy, and was offered a permanent job as the home economics teacher. A very sizeable salary was paid out to him for teaching students simple cooking, sewing, and household skills twice a week. The school was much like Homurahara, a similar culture, student body size, and even classes. The only difference was the beautiful western gothic architecture the school was built upon.

It was only then that he noticed a sizeable number of his student emitted the devilish aura he had found to be present during the night. He at first had a suspicion of a vampire infestation, as students previously known to him to be completely human would develop the aura seemingly overnight. Yet, those thoughts were snuffed out as he recalled the ravenous ghouls of his world, the students looked perfectly fine, albeit a little tired in daylight. He decided to withhold judgment and made sure to never use magecraft in the presence of any of the beings that had been identified as strange.

His legs once again moved him after the final plate was put upon the drying rack. Although he should be at school, his class started right after lunch. With his expertise and experience in the household, there was really no preparation required, thus he would normally spend the mornings on the two days he was required to be present at home.

However, today he was hit with a sense of prenotion. He felt that perhaps he had some obligation outside of teaching his students. Perhaps, an obligation to be present within the community of the school. His weariness towards the unknown energies of demonic origin had perhaps made him a recluse. With a different sense of vigor, he stood up and pulled his shirt from over his head. He slipped a simple suit jacket over a white button up, accompanied with a clip-on tie, for he never learned to tie one, covered by the neat folds of the black jacket. He changed out of his blue jeans and instead opted for a pair of wool dress pants, carbon black in color. With a second glance at himself in the mirror, he nodded in approval, picked up his bag and proceeded to walk out the door.

"What a beautiful day," Shirou remarked. The warm rays of the September sun kissed his skin, a cool breeze gently caressed his exposed face. The town was already alive, workers and birds alike beginning their morning routine. He began his adventure through town, living in the moment of the present. For just a few minutes a day, he was completely encompassed by the normality of it all. His thoughts would drift off to the beauty of the world, one that he promised to protect. As a champion of a distant dream. A hero of justice.

Unfortunately, the second he stepped foot on the Kuoh Academy campus, his inner tranquility disappeared. The humanoids masquerading as ordinary humans became such a mystery to him. Even though he had kept his apprehensions to himself. It didn't help dismiss any of precaution he would have to keep around them.

He smoothly entered his office, a small spartan room consisting of a dark mahogany desk and a few basic folding chairs he had taken from the gymnasium. He carefully set his bag down, as he sat down. Inside the leather bag contained a neatly stacked pile lesson plans, a laptop that showed its age with the bulk, and a lunch he had prepared for himself days before.

 _Knock knock_.

"Come in." monotoned Shirou. He was greeted with ruffled blond hair and silly grin of Genshirou Saji, secretary of the student council.

"Teacher, the central air conditioning unit has broken down for the second time today—" began the young man, " —and president Shitori was wondering if you could take a look at it."

"Sure," grunted Shirou, feeling a headache incoming, "lead the way."

With that, Shirou terminated his short-lived rest and again stood up to become of service to other people. He followed Saji with out of his safe haven. Saji was what he would label as a newly converted. Up until just a week or two ago, he was an extremely normal albeit slightly loud student. Yet now, he struck Shirou as something not quite human anymore.

As Shirou passed the front steps of the student council, a cold feeling struck him. A hunch he called. His breath hitched, as he forced himself to calm down. Yet, he could not. For he knew something was wrong, not just with anyone, but with Akeno. With a sudden jerking motion, he spun heels and began to run the opposite way.

"Teacher!?" protested Saji, evidently confused, "Where are you going? The student council room is right here."

Ignoring his words, Shirou began to push prana into his limbs, an aqua blue glow was given off from his circuits activating. He filled the openings of his inside with his od. With slight bits of prana pushing him, he made way to the outskirts of the school's main building. Heading in a beeline towards the old school house, the base of the Occult Research Club. The place where Akeno had spent most of her time.

He burst into the building with the ferocity of a lion in distress, only to be greeted by the four pairs of surprised eyes.

"Teacher? What are you doing here?"

His worried expression faltered, all he saw was four children, gathered on luxurious sofas having lunch together. Yet it tightened again when he remembered the abnormals. The devilish aura was particularly strong on the redhead by the name of Rias Gremory. While to a lesser extent in Yuuto Kiba and Koneko Toujou, The Prince of Kuoh and the School Mascot. He was already wary of the association Akeno had with them, yet did not have the heart to tell Akeno to cut her friendships loose.

"Shirou are you alright?" Akeno asked again, this time opting for the term Shirou, concern saturated her eyes. Her eyes were still widened from the worry she saw in her guardian a few seconds ago.

"Yes," Shirou forced himself to become relaxed, "I was just here to check on your lunch."

"It's fine as always, is there something particular about it today?" Akeno pressed on, determined to find out what exactly was bothering Shirou.

"Of course not." Shirou ransacked his brain for an excuse to use, "I may have just overcooked the omelet, I hope it is to your taste. I'll be taking my leave now."

And as fast as he had burst into the room, he left the room without a trace or sound.

"Strange, isn't he?" smiled Akeno.

Rias snorted, that was for sure. Her home economics teacher had just intruded into her lunch session uninvited with unnaturally fast speed and caution. She had never seen a more guarded person around her in her life. But then again, according to Akeno, other than at home he had always been like this no matter the circumstances. She suspected something supernatural of him, yet simply could not prove it. For all intents and purposes, Emiya Shirou acted like a regular human being. A hard-working teacher who is known for his straightforwardness and willingness to help, but one who isolated himself from the greater community. But that was not the case, called it a women's intuition.

It had immensely frustrating for both herself and her friend Sona. Both had tried on multiple occasions to provoke a supernatural response to unusual events. Yet, he would always stay stoic and non-reactive, only to finish what was asked of him relatively quickly and leave even faster.

And now that he burst into the room with a sharpness that could only remind her of her brother, the mystery only grew larger.

"Koneko did you sense anything?" asked Rias with a contemplative tone, perhaps her rook would have some answers for her.

"No." The stoic first-year said, "nothing seemed unusual about Emiya Shirou."

The brows of Rias Gremory furrowed further. Koneko was the most sensitive to the supernatural and really anything in general. The fact that her acute senses could not pick up anything meant that perhaps there was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Let's continue our lunch." Rias smiled and pushed the puzzle known as Emiya Shirou to the back her mind. After all, her time here on earth was a limited one.

* * *

A beautiful orb of light plastered itself across the sunset sky. The time of twilight had descended upon the town of Kuoh.

"Shirou, I'll be attending club activities after school," Akeno said slowly, wary of his strange behavior today. "Please eat first without me."

"Hmmm? Yeah sure." was Shirou's half-conscious response. His mind was still occupied with the gut feeling; there was just a slight tinge of it left. Yet Akeno stood tall in front of him, completely fine from head to toe. Perhaps he was feeling something else? Perhaps he was just overthinking it? A pair of arms slowly snaked around his torso, as Akeno leaned in close.

"I'm sure whatever you're thinking will be fine." She chimed with absolute confidence, fingers wrapped around small of his back.

Shirou slowly nodded his head, dispelling his ideas of her danger. He nodded again with more conviction and pulled Akeno in tighter.

"I'm sure it will." He muttered.

She beamed at him, with a smile bright enough to reinnervate the setting sun behind her. With a twirl of her magenta colored dress, she headed off towards the old schoolyard once again.

Shirou absentmindedly rubbed his head, as he prepared to depart home. He lifted his now empty bag onto his back, and slowly began to trot. Memories from years ago began to assault him. The pull of the grail, the curse of humanity's suffering, the mysterious light that saved him, and the inheritance he had received that day. His mind wandered further into the past, a time of war. And is reminiscences of her. The once and future king of Britain, he who would come in the time of need.

 _Shank_.

A stab of pain hit his gut, the feeling of fear and hopelessness from hours ago came back to him tenfold. Just like the feelings of a dying woman eight years ago. Despair filled him. He _knew_. Akeno had to be in danger. There was zero doubt in his mind at this point. A spike of energy invaded his senses, quite far from his current location. He pushed his circuits to their utmost limit, as they began to burn, reinforcing his whole body to the limits of being human for the first time in eight years. He pushed off the ground, a crack from air pressure was barely sounded before he had disappeared.

 _Faster_. Nerves were burned off to be converted into bastardized magic circuits as he pressed forward.

 _Faster_. His joints creaked as energy enveloped them and propelled him forward with even more velocity.

He was lead to the front of a remained of a park fountain. The seats accompanying the fountain was marked with holes reminding him of bullet holes. A young man he recognized as Hyoudou Issei had collapsed in a puddle of dark blood, just meters away. And next to him he saw her. Akeno. His darling. Eyes closed in her own pool of blood, not knowing whether her unconscious state would be permanent.

"Oh? Another human?"

He turned, only to be faced with what could be described as an angel, a perfect humanoid with a beautiful face that could have been sculpted from marble; yet she wore a revealing dress, face set into a canvas of boredom. The black wings. They gave her away they signified an angel, one who fell from heaven.

"Who are you?" Shirou growled. Body poised to fight a moment's notice.

"You have no right to know my name." slowly, motes of light gathered into her hands. "For a dead man tells no tales." The specks of light slowly fabricated a spear. Not one of elegance material, but a cruel jagged spear that reflected the true nature of its wielder.

"So please die for me," she proclaimed.

"Trace on."

Two elaborate Chinese falchions appeared in his hands. A sword of the flattest shade black, and a sword of the purest white. Kanshou and Bakuya, the married twin swords of Yin and Yang.

The crude spear of light deflected, all in the matter of milliseconds. It drove itself harmlessly into the earthy pavement of the park and dissipated back into particles of light.

"A sacred gear?" her eyes narrowed, "a sacred gear user left hidden at this age?"

Shirou wordlessly pointed her sword towards her. A universal gestures of killing intent. And with his furious eyes, prompted her to speak.

"Who. Are. You."

"My name is Raynare." She began slowly, "and it is a pleasure for me to make tonight your last."

A maniacal spread across the face of the beautiful fallen. Spears of light appeared and were thrown at Shirou in a relentless barrage. His bodied blurred. A step forward. A raised arm. A controlled parry. His trusted his instincts, as he blurred forward into the rain of death. His body and mind moved in perfect harmony. Both at a physical and spiritual level, fulfilling the true requirements of wielding the married swords.

" _Spirit and technique_."

Harmony and balance.

" _Flawless and firm_."

In a split second decision, he charged forward, ignoring the trails of smoke emitted from cauterization.

" _Our strength rips the mountains_."

How droll.

" _Our swords split the water_."

Raynare's twisted expression changed to one of worry. A puny human was able to survive her all-out assault.

" _Our names reach the imperial villa_."

Her eyes scanned her surroundings till she landed upon the girl— the half-fallen brethren reeking of Baraqiel.

" _The two of us cannot hold the heavens together_."

Her grin returned twofold as she created another spear, and with the entirety of her might, she hurled the deathseeker towards Akeno.

" _Triple-Linked Crane Wings!_ "

Two more sets of Kanshou and Bakuya were projected and darted towards the thrown projectile. Shirou leaped forward as the strike against Akeno was perfectly intercepted. He threw a pair of black swords— Yin towards Raynare.

"You missed." Easily tilting her head to avoid them, she grinned.

Without a word Shirou slashed down, cuts forming on the surface of Raynare's flawless skin. With a hiss she fell back she stared venomously into the amber orbs of Shirou.

"No, I didn't."

The grind of steel against flesh rang out loud and clear in the September sky as Ying returned to Yang. A look of confusion still etched onto her face as her bodied wings landed on the ground with a thud. The surge of pain finally hit her. And with it, came the wretched scream of loss.

Dispelling the other two pairs of blades, Shirou slowly walked towards her. Only to be blinded by a streak of black light as a dark figure descended in a fall of feathers.

"You really are worthless aren't you?"

"Who are you?" monotoned Shirou, unable to make out the true shape of the mysterious guest.

"K-kokabiel," tears seeped through the barely conscious eyes of Raynare, "you came."

"You were to eliminate the owner of the Longinus and the daughter of Baraqiel," sneered a man with ruby eyes. "Yet you were stopped not by the devils, but by an insignificant human."

The only response he was met with was the silent sobs of a broken woman. Shirou looked at the dark entity. Eyes narrowed. Slowly, Kokabiel turned to face him, a mere human.

"Who am I you say?"

 _One. Two._

" **I am the fourth watcher of Grigori** ,"

 _Three. Four._

" **The bearer of light, and the sword of the fallen** ,"

 _Five. Six._

" **I am the harbinger of war and death** ,"

 _Seven. Eight._

" **The most beautiful angel of the Father**."

 _Nine. Ten._

" **For I am Kokabiel, the Star of God**."

 _Eleven. Twelve jet black wings in the most splendid fashion._

 **"It will be an honor for you to perish at my hands."**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thank you for reading. All reviews are welcome. This story will hopefully be updated quickly, perhaps at least a chapter or two a week.


	2. The Embrace

Imperium | Chapter 2 - The Embrace

* * *

Kokabiel, the Angel of the Stars, and the commander of the fourth phalanx.

With just one thought from him, the world would burn.

A pair of pointed ears adorned his seemingly ageless face. A midnight black cape loosely draped over his figure; with a matching golden mantle lightly fluttering along with the movement of his wings.

 _Twelve wings._

The symbol of a seraph.

And a fallen one at that.

Shirou felt a faint shiver travel down his spine as he stared into the Kokabiel's ruby-like eyes. He could feel pure cruelty behind those pairs of stonelike eyes.

"The daughter of Baraqiel," emotionlessly started the fallen, "deliver her to my hands and I shall grant you the gift of quick death."

Kokabiel indeed was not referring to the boy, Hyoudou Issei. For a daughter was explicitly mentioned. The fallen he had triumphed over was already established as an ally, so it couldn't be her. Thus, by the process of elimination… he turned to face her, tens of meters away. _Akeno_.

Baraqiel, another Vice Governor General of the Grigori, was a thorn that had been by his side too much. At the end of the Great War, along with Azazel and Shemhazai, he had suppressed and reduced Kokabiel to a state of truce. Even though the heaven faction had lost God, while the Devils had lost their Satans.

A few years ago, a man by the name of Suou Himejima had appeared at his doorstep; informing him of great news. Baraqiel had a daughter, a weak and fragile half-human daughter. The man the proceeded to hand over the location of the mother and daughter pair with a predatory smile. Kokabiel knew that this was the opportunity gifted to him by fate to seize revenge, and seized it he did. He dispatched his angels, the elites of the fourth phalanx to deal with the wife and spawn of Baraqiel.

They had arrived and brought carnage to their home. Defiling Baraqiel's wife to the highest extent before burning the two alive. And that was the end of it.

Until he found her in Kuoh, alive and well under the membrane of the Gremory Princess. He once again saw it as a perfect opportunity. For the daughter of Baraqiel to die on devil territory would make quite an impact in the politics of the three factions. But for the sister to the current satan to die at the same time? Unrestrained anarchy would commense.

He had never expected for a perfectly unremarkable human to interfere with his plans.

Shirou stared hard.

"No."

He would not fail another. Not when he had failed so many before.

A grin was slowly curved its way up the fallen's face as he was met with silence. Double pointed lances of light began to form in his hand.

"Then be enlightened by true power."

The spears he conjured in his hands was lances of pure light power, and he indiscriminately hurled them around Shirou. They detonated on landing, and with flashes of angry light, created craters in the earth, further annihilating the already broken pavement and cement.

A lance of power, hundred times larger than the previous ones instantly appeared in the fallen's hands. It made a beeline for Shirou. His hands let go of Kanshou and Bakuya, the married swords faded away into particles of prana. And the world around him exploded in a corona of expanding light.

The searing fevor expatitated, and then shattered in a flash of white heat. The sheer power behind it blew the park with concussive force. A dazzling white flame wreathed his surroundings with fire, yet strangely, they would not touch him. Strangely indeed, they did not _dare_ touch anything.

Twelve matching feathery wings of pure light extended into the air, as the lifted above ironclad shoulders like the dawn of sunrise. Slowly, he rose. A face encased in a visor of silver stared unblinkingly at its surroundings, and the white flames that had been roaring at through the air abruptly flickered out. Gone from existence with a single disapproving look.

The control of holy fire, a symbol of a high angel, one that had trescended the mere realms of angelicism.

But who dared?

His visor flipped as the dust was swept away with a single powerful flap of his powerful wings.

" **Kokabiel.** "

" **I was once a man of the Antediluvians.** "

"No…" the Fallen Angel found he could no longer hold his composure as his arms dropped to his sides. "T-that's impossible!" He began to recall memories, times of the fifth heaven, and the times of war.

" **But a man I was no more, for I walked with God in the days of Genesis.** "

"It cannot be… you fell that day… with him." screamed Kokabiel, visage twisted with anger and despair.

His wings became alight with flames, the righteous flames of the lord.

" **I was the light of humanity, fallen during war.** "

A symbol, reminiscent of an incomplete bird began to form.

" **The second coming is here, for I have been reborn from the fires of redemption.** "

"You are a fake!" screeched Kokabiel as a daemonic laugh rippled the space.

Shirou tilted his hand downwards. A slight nod.

" **Once again from a man of destiny, I have emerged."  
** Radiant pinions of light extended out.

" **For I am Metatron, The Final Archangel of God.** "

Maniacal laughter. Utterly demented laughter was let out from the throat of the fallen.

"I see," six pairs of crow-like wings stretched to their fullest in response. Their owner glared down at Shirou, face twisted into an ugly mask of hatred.

"So father chose a human?" Kokabiel bared his fangs. "Over the vanguard that had served him for eons? The fallen legion of Heaven?" Betrayal filled his voice, images of the golden age of heaven flooded his brain with emotion.

"Chosen over by mere humans, what mockery." Sneered the Star, "we waited for our salvation, craving the love and light of our father again."

"And you took that from us."

Kokabiel's crimson eyes bled as he gazed straight into the bright eyes of Metatron no— Shirou. His gaze than darted towards the dark clouds of heaven. Hands extended.

"The world will _burn._ "

Reaching a hand towards his waist, he withdrew from his satchel a crystalline snake the size of his palm and the color of purple. From within the crystal exuded a primordial aeon, not unlike the abyss.

Eras ago, he had led the angels to battle. Once holy then fallen. During the Great War, the fourth phalanx was at his command. His name brought fear to the hearts of enemies, his authority would mobilize hundreds of thousands of his fallen brethren, and his presence alone turned skirmishes into one-sided massacres.

The fires ignited in his eyes grew brighter as the memories of warmongering floated into his mind. The golden age of fallen expansion.

Yet now looking at what the fallen race and himself had become, all he could do was laugh derisively. He had been confined by peace, grown weak from neutrality. The fallen angels were in decline, and where was he? Put to work and forced to undergo what was to him disgracefully unscrupulous tasks.

In a heartbeat, he swallowed the snake, producing an abyssal force that seemed beyond the scope of time and space.

He didn't regret it. After all, he knew deep down that him alone was not enough to revitalize the great war, he could only rely on the power of infinity.

* * *

Rias Gremory was for all intents and purposes, distressed.

Her plans perfectly fell into place. Hyoudou Issei, a member of the perverted trio, was suspected to be in possession of a powerful sacred gear. Not many sacred gears would emit a robust draconic aura, as each would have had to have a previously alive dragon sealed into it. Yet, Hyoudou Issei reeked utterly of dragons; an indicator of a powerful one. Ever since her being alerted to the presence of Fallen Angel activity in her area, she had no doubt in her mind that Issei was going to die if given the chance. But that said, it would give her an opening. An opening to allow her the perfect opportunity to add another member to her shorthanded peerage.

She had made her plans, scrambling the second she received news that the fallen had made their move. She reminded herself that the deceased could not be reincarnated; only those in limbo, ones that sat on the fine edge of life and death could.

She had made the park in record time. Her preparations had been swift, and she had arrived at the site of the park. Battle-ready and preparing for the worst of situations. What she saw would perhaps make a normal human scream from fright.

Under the illumination of the full moon, a wholly destroyed park was brought into view. The half-standing piping was the only remains of what once was a fountain. Broken shards of stone, splintered pieces of wood, scattered pieces of tiles, eviscerated wings, all were abundant at the scene Then among the battlefield, she saw him.

Hyoudou Issei.

His body slumped over the ground, hand still over the gaping hole in his chest; made by the spear of his first girlfriend. Without a shadow of a doubt, he was dead; with such a fatal wound, nothing outside reincarnation would do much here.

As she stared at his pitiful posture, she realized how self-centered she was. Her own selfishness had brought a boy to his knees in pain; that was, however, the crux of being a devil, the fulfillment of her own desires. She needed a strong peerage, one with enough power to save her from the cruel talons of a phoenix.

Then she saw _her_.

Why _her?_

Rias had entered Kuoh Academy two years ago with her long-term friend Sona. Her ever slight introversion was perhaps a byproduct of her upbringing, one that caused others to view her as a trophy to be. The heir of the Gremory clan, pushed onto her after her brother became Lucifer, was perhaps her greatest asset and greatest hate.

She revived the old Occult Research Club to become the future base of operations for her peerage. Even going as far as to secure the old school building for added privacy, that was until Akeno Himejima decided she would join the club. A person that saw her not as the heir of Gremory, nor as a devil, but as a simple girl named Rias. No matter the occasion, her entirety was ordinary in front of her. She decided from that day forward to hide the supernatural world from Akeno. Not only to protect her, but also to indulge in her selfish desire— of being seen as normal.

Akeno Himejima laid in her own haema, her locks splayed over the forehead. A pool of blood more crimson than even her own hair was littered with bits of cauterized flesh. Her hands were clenched tight over the fist-sized hole in her stomach; faint trails of smoke still emitted from the grisly wound. Her eyes were half-lidded, and a grim expression of pain seemingly permanently etched onto her face. She was not dead, no far from it, still alive.

Then was until she saw Kokabiel.

A face she would recognize anywhere. One of the forces her brother had sincerely and continuously warned her to be wary of. Not just due to his power, no. But instead due to his warmonger nature.

Rias knew at that moment. Her plans had become many times more complicated. She clenched her fist and took out a chess piece. It was ruby, gleaming in the light of the flickering moonlight. It donned light armor, and its face was obscured by the visor of its helmet. A raised flag was inscribed was an upside down triangle, adorned with tight curves and a roman numeral five. The Seal of Satan, the symbol of the devil faction.

She was still adjusting her plans to fit her needs when she felt her skin burn. A resounding inner instinct told her to run. To run away as far as possible. For there was a bane to her race present here, a being of tremendous power.

 _Metatron_.

An archangel she only knew of from the history books. Metatron was not a name, but rather the title referring to God's chosen, Enoch. The high chancellor of heaven was said to be the most brutal opposition the devils had face during the great war. For he embodied not only the powers of heaven but also the powers of the earth.

Regret.

In the face of a colossal battle, Rias Gremory was scared for her life. She clutched the gleaming chess piece she had previously selfishly hoped to use. In the winds of power, she sat adrift on the massive power generated by the two entities at battle. The regrets flashed by. One by one they appeared in front of her in perfect clarity.

She stared at the hole in the boy, lying in a puddle of his own blood.

She stared at the hole in the now unconscious girl, a friend of hers she had hoped would never see the twilight world.

She stared hard as her teeth ground together. It was her opportunity, and she could endure no longer. A boy with limitless potential and a girl of innocence were within her reach to save. She would have it no other way.

Her wobbling legs somehow cohesively began to function. Her nails dug further into her palms with enough pressure to draw blood. Each step was accompanied by a stab of fear and hesitation, the force exuding from the two were one another level, one even on par of what little she had seen of her brother.

She reached him first. Blood still warm. Absently, her shaking hand reached out and brushed away a sweat stain strand of her crimson locks. For a moment she reflected again on what she had done to the boy. Becoming a gear in the devil's war machine.

She gently placed the crimson queen on top of Issei's chest. It's shine under the white wings of Metatron distinguishing it from the blood still flowing from the open wound.

"I am Rias Gremory, first heir to the house of Gremory and future Duke of hell."

Her bloodstained hands, hovered over the chess piece, its glow no longer luminescent of in reflection of light, but rather devilish power.

"I command thee, Hyoudou Issei…" she grimaced, the holy power emitted from the two combatants weren't helping with the ritual at all, "...become my queen, and walk these lands as the servant of a devil!"

The glowing chess piece slowly sank into the crevices of Issei's body. As the queen disappeared into him, the glow went with it, leaving the world. Rias watched as the boy went from being dead to alive and well, save for the wound still puncturing through his chest. He would be stable for now, the injury would have to be treated later.

Her body swiveled as both her head and attention turned to the other body laying on the ground.

 _Akeno._

* * *

From Kokabiel's hand sprouted two lances; javelins of purple light which he hurled forward, the two spears expanding until they resembled amethyst comets. The power they exuded was many times more potent, more concentrated than what he had put out minutes ago. It was to the point where infinity had melded chaotically with the power of light.

Shirou was tempted to fight fire with fire, to attempt to overpower the ridiculous lances thrown by the fallen angel. He, however, had to consider his vicinity, most importantly Akeno.

Her injured state dictated how long he could let this battle drag out while simultaneously defining the way he would fight his battle; defensively. With her physical state, forget the resulting shockwave from a clash of such proportions, just a fragment of such power would end her life.

"Trace on."

 _Judging the concept of creation_.

A conceptual construct.

 _Hypothesizing the basic structure._

A seven petaled flower, each representing a layer of oxhide.

 _Duplicating the composition material._

Consolida ajacis, the blood of Ajax the Great.

 _Imitating the skill of its making._

The last light of a legend.

 _Sympathizing with the experience of its growth._

Null, for it is to be the crystallization of a concept.

 _Reproducing the accumulated years._

An ageless phantasm to meet the power of infinity.

 _Excelling every manufacturing process._

" **Rho Aias!** "

A seven layered bounded field; each petal with the defensive power of a fortress wall. Initially it was the oxhide shield used by Greek hero, Ajax the Great in the Trojan; the only thing capable of stopping Durindana, the Unbroken Javelin of Hector, hero of Troy. Its existence was eventually sublimated into a simple concept: defense against projectiles.

Seven fuschia colored rings layered on top of each other materialized into reality. The two spears of infinity clashed with the conceptual armament of absolute defense in a whirl of sparks. The centripetal force created a seemingly endless vortex.

 _Crack._

Shirou's eyebrows furrowed.

 _Crack._

His wings tensed as he prepared for the worst.

 _Crack. Crack._

The two javelins stopped spinning but were very much still pushing against the walls.

 _Crack._

Five layers of the Rho Aias were broken by through by pure power before disintegrating. The concept of infinity was indeed a frightening power. Just a small catalyst of it was able to give such an exponential increase in the strength of Kokabiel.

 _Use me._

A weapon of righteousness he had only seen upon peering into the memories of his once beloved.

 _The victory he had received._

"I had asked you for your name, no?" Shirou called out, a small smile adorning his lips. He flourished his hand and moved his lips. "It seems that I have not introduced myself."

"I am the bone of my sword!"

Veins bulging and mind racing, his amber eyes narrowed as he envisioned his construct. A dazzling sword with a strip of pure gold that ran down its blade became to take shape. The golden guard clad in rubies formed along with the majestic royal blue handle.

 _Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone is rightwise king of all England._

After the fall of the Roman Empire, and during the invasions of the Anglo-Saxons, Britain experienced what would be known today as the Dark Ages. There, however, the seed of Christianity planted by the Romans during the first century came to full bloom. When had first started out, it was little more than a cult. God provided his solution through Arthur Pendragon, a perfect member of mankind— worthy of drawing the sword in the stone.

An instance of weightlessness washed over him. A state of tranquility entered him. A sensation of power was emanating from within, seeking a way out, begging for release.

And deep within his conscience, it came.

The sword in the stone. Sing for the legend of the most perfect knight.

" **Cali-** "

It was the first sword of King Arthur, the King of Camelot, and ruler of England. A symbol of authority during a time of the United Isles. It wasn't a sword Shirou had seen in his lifetime, but instead, one he had seen in the remembrance of his servant, Saber.

" **-burn!** "

 _Caliburn: Sword of the Assured Victory_.

As soon as he spoke out the Noble Phantasm's name, Kokabiel's previously vicious expression, shifted into one of palpable shock. It was a conundrum. For all intents and purposes, Caliburn had long been broken and lost in battle. It was just impossible to be in possession of the priceless artifact.

Shirou's cry echoed out within the forestry. Holy and magical power exploded around Shirou in a magical storm. With the true name of the Noble Phantasm released, a brilliant firepower at scales comparable to the power of infinity was unleashed. His wings were pushed back, the immense force created by beam pushed him back. A shockwave resounded as the blast of Caliburn pierced through the heavens and illuminated the dark clouds of the night.

To Saber, Caliburn was perhaps even more significant than her holy sword Excalibur, for it was equal parts the symbol of her reign and her greatest shame. While she may have felt regret as a result of her unsuccessful rule, she could not fault the sword for choosing her. It signified something "more than human."

Caliburn was the proof of Arthur's divine right to rule, enabling him to band together with a group of like-minded knights to his court, the most prestigious Round Table. It allowed for him to unite the ideals of chivalry, honor, and virtue into beacons of Christendom, bolstering its position into the sole faith of the land.

Yet there it was, its aura unmistakeable; the same sword he remembered from the olden times. For Kokabiel, it was a reminder. He recalled his face, the look of love on his face, the look of brilliance when he battled, the features that made him _him_.

Kokabiel had reacted too late. His shell-shocked reaction had locked him in his disadvantaged position for much too long. And had paid the price. Everything from his torso down had been outright obliterated, disappeared. No blood was even present to mark the incident.

All that remained of him was a severely disfigured body and shocked face. Hundreds of years ago, no one would have believed it if it were to be said that the morning star of god would face such defeat.

"That sword…shouldn't be able to exist." gritted out what remained of the fallen angel.

"It never truly broke," began Kokabiel. "How could it? The holy king sword forged by the one true God, shattered by mere mortal metal? No. It was only a sign that Arthur had fallen out of favor with the Lord."

Since times immemorial, as a warrior gained fame, so too would the weapons and armaments they wielded. Indeed, more often than not, bards would attribute the prowess of the hero in battle to the might of their blade. As a broken sword forged and chosen by the heavenly father to anoint the rightful king, Caliburn became less of a symbol of Arthur's labors, but of Christianity itself.

"Caliburn was not a physical construct of man nor fairy, but a spiritual construct of God himself, he had created it to be the symbol of a perfect ruler."

His fist clenched, "only the father would be able to produce the sword of utopia."

"Who are you truly? How can you?" Kokabiel begged, accepting defeat.

"Who am I?" The voice that came out of Shirou's mouth was different. Deep, gentle, soothing, and _powerful_.

A voice that tied the final knots forming in Kokabiel's heart.

A voice he he would never forget.

"Kokabiel, the Morning Star of the Kingdom of the Sky, have you truly forgotten me?" A soft melancholic light shrouded Shirou in a fine mist. The previously half-formed bird came again into view, this time manifesting in front of the image of a Holy Cross as a dove.

 _With his word, the birds sang._

The flutter of wings.

The divine chorus.

The third branch of Yahweh.

 _Ruach Hakodesh, Holy Spirit of the Triune God._

The Hypostasis of Christianity.

"The father of all creation…" Kokabiel for the first time in what he could remember was purely content. For he had fulfilled his purpose; to die in glorious battle. With teary eyes he stared into the eyes of Shirou. "...a fitting end for a sinner like me."

* * *

Rias peered down over Akeno. She suddenly found herself hesitating. Her mind running her through the possibilities of the future. It would never be the same again if he turned her into a devil, but without turning her, she would lose her forever. What a quandary of Catch-22 indeed.

She snapped her fingers, and a brief flash of light appeared in her hands. When the light died down it was to reveal an object in her hand.

Right. There was only one thing she could do.

A standard chess piece. The pawn. With this, Rias would be able to save her friend, at the expense of the power of her own peerage, and her regularity. She gently bent down by Akeno and dusted off the debris covering her chest, and lean forward. "Please don't hate me."

Yet, nothing seemed to happen as she placed the pawn on her chest.

Coughing, she tried adding another pawn. When that didn't work, she tried her Bishop. Again nothing. Swearing, Rias added another two pawns onto her chest.

Akeno could only moan as she saw specks of dark red light burst into life on her chest, and could just watch in muted silence as the chess pieces began to burrow itself into her chest. The dark light slowly began to seep its way into her body.

But suddenly, she felt the energy inside her vanish. And the dark red light was forced out. A warmer light seemed to make its way to every nook and cranny inside of her body. The hole in her chest began to close slowly.

"A sacred gear?" cried Rias.

Was it perhaps a holy type sacred gear, only activating with an outside influence? Upon further inspection, she saw a holographical construct, one seemingly made out of a myriad of colors steadily began to close the hole in her chest. The strain seen on Akeno's face slowly started to lessen.

The four half sunken pawn piece was suddenly propelled out with great force. Landing a perhaps a meter away. Most surprisingly, were the neat cracks that ran down the smooth surface of each marble. The faint crimson glow, characteristic of an evil piece, was nowhere to be seen.

A resounding footstep.

"Child of the devil. What do you think you are doing?"

Fear gripped the heart of Rias. Shakingly, she turned around to face what she would describe in the future as one of the most indelible moments of her life. What seemed like an archangel of vengeance slowly stalked towards her. It wasn't just wings behind him that struck devastation into her heart, but rather what he had in his bearing. A gleaming longsword that sent cold shivers down her spine was held tightly in his hand.

Rias pursed her lips and dropped her arms to the side before glancing at the ground.

"I am Rias Gremory, sister to Sirzechs Lucifer—" gritted out Rias, before she was interrupted by the powerfully cold voice.

"—I asked for what you were doing to her."

A crack of thunder blasted in the distance, further juxtaposing the flaming white pinons to the dimness of the night. The unforgiving coldness of the situation struck her. Tears welled up into her eyes, it seemed the name Sirzechs Lucifer didn't even register into the senses of the mysterious Seraph.

"I was turning her into a devil, as a servant of mine."

Looking into the cold orbs of her opposition, she found a desperate sense of defiance swelling up inside of her.

"She was dying!" she screamed, tears flowing out of her eyes, "How could I let someone so dear to me, someone so precious to me, someone who realized who I just died like that?"

Perhaps in another universe, he would be thanking her. However, years earlier, he had implemented Avalon into Akeno. A mark of his love towards her, for his willingness to give up his only piece of Saber. Could the devilish weak power compete with the brilliance of a holy fae weapon? Of course it could not. For Avalon represented the Everdistant Utopia, one of the highest of Noble Phantasms. Even as a shell of its former self, it was enough to heal its user from catastrophic injuries.

Shirou dropped Caliburn and with a wave of his hand, willed it into nothingness. It seems the devil wasn't as malicious as Shirou had thought her to be. It was a forced ritual in order to save her. To save. Words that resonated with him. With a begone ideal others had once called foolish.

He took a single sonorous step forward.

She took a step back.

A single step forward.

A single step back.

The emotionless orbs of Shirou softened. The wings of light began to fade as he kept walking forward. As he arrived in front of her, he raised his hand to the side of her head. She flinched, expecting to be struck down as a devil. Only to find a sense of warmth envelope her. His great armor started to disintegrate, and with it came his visor.

His kind face entered her vision, and it was as if lightning had struck her, causing the fear in her to become tied up in a garbled mess. Her face confused as she stared into the iris' of her Home Economics instructor.

"Teacher?" whispered Rias.

"Thank you."

An embrace from the Ghost of God to a Devil.

 _And that day, began the friendship of God and Devil._

* * *

 ** _Author's Note:_** I hope I have answered some of your questions in this chapter. Please bear with me as I explore the world of creative writing for the first time. I'd also like to extend my thanks to Archleone for his extensive write up. It has helped me immensely in articulating my thoughts. Thank you all once again for reading, and all reviews (even the censure heavy ones) are welcome.


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